Fratricide
by TrippleThreatTrio
Summary: Inexplicable death is one thing, impossible life is another. Astonishingly, these women live, and they live to kill. Herbalist Shizuru Fujino is on the case, but she's not alone. Others join her in the pursuit of ending the hellacious events. -AU, heavy horror themes, characters from other anime: Rei Hino, Usagi Tsukino, Shimako Todo, Kikyo, Chikane Himemiya, Himeko Kurusugawa.
1. Fratricide - The Beginning

**Krissy:** Horror junkie, and Freak-fiction writer for the TrippleThreatTrio, at your service.

I beg you, stay your swords and pitchforks until after I explain. Freak-fiction is at its source a story, a compilation, or a report of things that we do not entirely understand. Paranormal activity, impossible to explain events, and even the breakdown of a human's innermost psyche are all prime examples. Under these terms, there are a myriad of other ways to write and understand freak-fiction.

Understand however, that to truly be considered a freak-fiction, the story must leave you unsettled - or at the very least - pondering the nature of it. It must, as the name suggests, freak you out in some way, shape, or form.

I shall offer you a few example to roll around in your mind at your leisure. If you happen to belong to the SCP fandom, then congratulations. You've witnessed what some would claim to be freak-fiction written in a clinical fashion. If you are a fan of X-Files, or something akin to it, then you would be a fan of story driven freak-fiction. If you've ever watched a movie about serial murderers, or read stories of mental asylums gone wrong, then you have indeed witnessed what some in the occult world would call freak-fiction.

A few games that use freak-fiction would be the following: Silent Hill games, SCP-087 the Stairwell, Outlast, and even The Binding of Isaac.

As a consumer of freak-fiction, the possibilities are endless. I hope that you enjoy my interpretation of freak-fiction, as I bring it into this universe.

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 ** _In case you have skipped the above, know this: the story below is made to unsettle readers, you have been warned. There is gore, and there will be more gore, and more horror in later chapters._**

 ** _This is merely a small sample of my work, as I have never once exposed myself to posting stories on the inter-webs._**

 ** _I'd like to ascertain the level of interest this story may bring, but I need you to help me do that. If you found it enjoyable, please follow, favorite, or review._**

 ** _Next available update: August 2, 2015.  
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 **Fratricide  
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This land is not all that it seems, Shizuru. However it is our land, as it must be.

That was what my father, herbalist by trade, proclaimed all too often. He believed firmly that in order to understand his craft, one had to understand the spirit of mankind. Their nature, the hunger of the flesh, and the desire of all things perfunctory to the senses. Some assumed my father a madman.

Surely of this I know of this. I thought so too, given his interests. However, he did know what roots to use, and how to treat the strangest of ailments. People feared him, but, they also respected him. A sort of grudging admiration, if I had to gift their utterances a description. I don't blame them, in fact, I'm in awe of the common folk.

Medicine is a powerful tool, able to subjugate even the healthiest of men if used properly. My father made no deception of that.

Although he would turn away no one, he was a connoisseur of human nature. To say he enjoyed working with those particularly unfortunate souls would be an understatement. It would be selfsame to say perhaps, that a rapist only mildly enjoys intercourse. The analogy, while scathing, is still fitting.

After all, that is merely what many assumed my father to be.

A rapist of the mind, a purger of ailments that would otherwise be left uncured. It was a dangerous craft, or so he warned me often. Mutilation was a common sight, self-inflicted horrors were merely the tip of the iceberg. Beneath their twitching eyes, and between their cryptic words rested a wealth of knowledge. It was my father's job to pluck this knowledge from the depths. He would use it to cure the worst form of all illnesses.

The sicknesses of the mind, and ultimately the degradation of good sense.

I also grew to practice herbalism, but one of a different kind. I was more interested in the body. The breakdown of flesh and the seeping of fluids. Ultimately, things I found atrocious by nature. It gave me no little comfort to think that one day I might fall to such ills myself. I was not completely free of my father's tutelage, and as his protégé, I received a great many clients that I ended up turning away.

I treated women, not men.

Especially not men who saw fit to spill his seed anywhere except the womb of a woman. That was exactly the place it was meant to be sown, after all. If they chose to attempt to do so other places, well, that would be a failing endeavor. It was foolish in my mind, and unworthy of merit to even consider. Although, truth be told, I was not particularly interested in men.

My upbringing saw fit to squelch any and all desire I might have of the male species.

It was true though, that I understood the allure of a woman...and as such, why a man might choose to defile one in every manner possible. There were even houses for this, which suggested to me that some women even found pleasure in such activities. It was not an inherently bad thing. To give into vices, was as normal as the sun in the sky. As my father's research proved, giving into vices was sometimes the only protection from insanity.

I too, believed it. I was a student of medicine after all, and I took pride in knowing the truths of humanity.

Bordellos were not, by nature, a place of death. At least, they were not so by way of cruelty. Indeed, debase men would plunder some of the strangest of places, and oddest of women. In doing so, illness would cloak the land, spreading the epidemic of genital diseases frolic after frolic. However, every doctor agreed it was by the acts of foolish men, and the promiscuous endeavors of women that did this. Abstaining from sex was the only way, after all, to be truly free of any such infection.

However, it was also agreed; intercourse only as a necessity for childbirth, would keep the majority of innocent people healthy.

So long as only sinners were to blame, it wasn't of any concern of mine, or my fellows for that matter. Imbeciles succumbed to the wrath of nature in purest form. Survival of the fittest. So long as a man desired greater than his lot in life, he would be paid his due. Wise women murmured it was because the human spirit could be as fickle as it was honorable. The lukewarm sentiment did nothing but perpetuate my desire to send away every ailing man who stood at my door.

Yet, become a concern of mine, it did, much to my greatest dismay.

I remember the sordid evening well, rain sopping everything for as far as the eye could see. I expected the evening to be a quiet one, who would come calling in the rain? No one, I had thought then. I was proven wrong.

A woman came with a drenched parchment. Its contents were abysmal, detailing what could only be the devil's work. The scribe's elegant scripture did nothing to quell my fears. Even as it stated the hells to be distant ones. I read and thought of the implications. I thought the worst, and I feared.

I feared because I knew distance would not be a reasonable solution. As I recall when looking onward at the yellowed page, that I was both in awe of the statement, and curious by it all the same.

It read simply thus; the shadow of scorn grows nigh.

I had heard the statement before. The ramblings of conspiracy were not new to my ears, nor to my eyes. As a child I'd heard them. Men from the north cupping their prick, or what little was left of it. Castration was a tool of war, a punishment for criminals. Lobbed to the bit with a sword was good enough an answer. No greater was the price, than the price of lost virility. Never mind the burn of urine, or the eventual infection that would ultimately result.

No few men died in my sights in my youth.

My father would take even the most degenerate swine, he turned no one away. That was why, in their tortured screams, they would tell him things that would curdle the blood of any who listened. They'd say it was not of punishment, but, of retribution. For what, even they did not know. Who -or what- would do such a thing, they found themselves unable to explain.

I assumed them delusional. As crazed as my father. I pondered little of it.

As this woman sat before me however, I could see that it was not merely men that suffered. She had received such great losses to her person. A rather large wound, poorly stitched, made something yank at my gut. I thought instantly, she had suffered the same fate. This woman had lost something vital, at the hands of something she could not say.

With great haste, I gave her some opium -milk of the poppy- as known by the common folk.

I went to work, re-opening the festering wound. I expected green puss, and stagnating blood. I feared I'd have to pour in leaches to suck away the infected blood, maggots to clear away the rotting flesh, and holy-water so that the gods would be appeased. I found a much worse sight, when I peeled back the incision I carefully made.

There was no womb, no ovaries, not even a cavernous mess of which to clean up. Claiming to see a priestess floating above her, I gazed up, but I saw nothing. My crimson eyes returned to the inspection of her body. I could hardly hold the frightened woman down, let alone see to her rather distressing innards. The lack of them made my belly lurch, my own vomit splashing upon the floor more than once.

It made no sense to me, none. She should be dead, it was by the grace of gods she survived this. I was sure of it. How else could a person still be breathing, a woman no less, without half of her vital organs? Only the gods could have granted her succor. If that was the case, I could do no more then stitch her up, and medicate her pain.

Yet, she would not even allow me to help her that much. She violently flung me to the side at my attempts. Her eyes unseeing of anything, only the image she claimed to be taunting her.

At the mercy of her own hallucination, she died upon my table that night.

I could do nothing to save her. Exhausted, I faded in and out of alertness several times. After I was able to pick myself off of the floor stained with all manner of bodily liquids, I decided I would save her body for further examination. I left the room to prepare supplies, yet upon my return, she was gone.

I found this strange, but I would not speak of it, not to anyone.

I thought myself stressed, and, considered I had perhaps imagined the entire thing. It would not be the first time that my work with plants, poisonous and otherwise, sent my head spinning. It was a common malady actually, and that night I thought little more of the event.

In the months following, others spoke of similar events. A few far reaching letters came to my door. It was then I knew, I was not alone. Something had to be done, and, I decided that I was the spitting image of my father after all.

I set my path due north, but, I did not journey alone.

...

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 _ **Krissy:** This was merely a glimpse of what is to come. Either way, I hope you found it to your liking. This is Krissy, from the TrippleThreatTrio, logging off. I bid you a good night, and nightmarish-yet-pleasant dreams. Don't turn off the lights._

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 **To the guest reviewer:** I apologize if it seems unclear, but this is not a romantic fiction, which is why I haven't listed romance as a genera.

I do not intend for this fiction to have couples. Though, I suppose if you wanted to imagine any of these characters doing…acts…with any of the others, you're more than welcome to. They are as strict to their original personalities as can be assured, so if that permits you to couple a character, by all means, do so in your head.

However, romance will not play a central role in the story. In fact, writing anything inherently romantic would be quite inconsequential to my personal goals for this fiction. If you are so inclined to enjoy a romantic pairing, I assure you that the TrippleThreatTrio have several other writers who do couple characters from Mai HiME.

If you are indeed looking for romance though, you won't find it in this particular fiction. I would instead offer for you to **please send a PM to the account** requesting the pairing of choice. We have 6 main writers who plan to post up fan-fiction on a regular basis, and 5 who plan to sporadically join in as time permits.

To be clear though, the reason I do not write romance pairings; I am Asexual. I do not have the capacity to really enjoy writing them, and so, I don't really try to.


	2. The Memoir, Part 1

**Krissy:** I feel the need to send out a quick blurb and remind everyone that there is no focus of romance in this fiction. You could possibly pair characters together if you really wanted, but I do not intend to focus on such things. At least, not in the traditional way we perceive interpersonal relationships as a whole.

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 ** _I've recently upgraded my PC to windows 10, and as such, some of my writing documents fell into the abyss of corruption. Chapters 3, 4, and 5, were unrecoverable. That being said, I fully expect to have that little matter sorted out posthaste, and my next projected update reflects that. I want to give myself some wiggle room to properly deal with the matter at hand._**

 ** _In the meantime, welcome to chapter two. I hope you enjoy. Next available update: August 15_** ** _th_** ** _, 2015._**

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 **Fratricide: The Memoir, Part 1**

Average days went by, but, my mind was so far away from my tasks.

I ran the usual lengthy procedures. They were not difficult. If anything, they were rather mundane. It may in fact be callous of me to say such things. In my free time, I spent hours poring over my father's old tomes. There weren't exactly clues, but, there was one thing that interested me. An old leather book, splattered in what looked to be blood. I flitted through the contents.

Most of the pages were just the tittering-on of a young princess, and I wasn't particularly interested in that. There was one passage, though, that granted me curiosity.

It reads as so;

 _It is not within blood that sovereignty is found. Only loyalty may sow the seeds of a such a thing. Only faith can maintain such iron-fisted ideology. I am none of these things. Duty and desire are at war, and I do not intend to fight. I cannot fight it, I cannot be so weak. To do so, would disavow my own merits as the eldest Himemiya. To hold her close would be to crush my love of her. In spite of knowing this, I wonder yet still, if that is the only way to save her._

 _The only way, to keep at bay the blisters of the hellfire priestess._

It was so different from the other written passages.

I found the chronicle disturbing to say the least. Putting the matter aside one more, I tried to force myself into daily life.

I examined the women that were sent to me by the local bordello. They'd talk, and I'd listen. I'd always tried to be kind and considerate. Putting on a smile was something expected. After all, women are fragile. A smile can be the difference between help and hindrance. Many of them come to me for birthwort, a compound used to ward away the possibility of childbirth. Others spoke to me concerning ailments of a far different matter.

Diseases of the flesh that were only transmitted by desire alone. Though it was my job to tend to these aliments, among many others, I found myself unable to satisfy the usual concerns. I was too distracted, too preoccupied to be of any real help.

I could not focus. The dead woman, she would not leave my memory.

The only thing I could think of, was her body lying there upon my table. Such a visceral sight had attached itself to my every waking concern. It haunted me in the depth of my sleep. Every night, a cold sweat drenched me. Too many times, I woke with my belly burbling. I could nearly smell the rotting innards once more, even though the woman was long gone. No trace of her left.

I wanted to do something, but, there were limits to my capabilities. I was little more than a mere Herbalist. I hadn't the slightest idea what I could do on my own. In an attempt to make sense of the abnormality I'd witnessed, I sent correspondence all over the land. I finally received an answer from a well-respected medicine woman, one Yukino Kikukawa.

She invited me to her abode, several kilometers northwest of my outward little hut.

Her mother and my father were held as the two authorities in the region for their expertise. It was merely that my father lacked prejudice, and as such, acted as that of a madman. While it was true that Yukino was no certified doctor, she was perhaps one of the best the town had to offer. As females, we were ignored by the tradesmen that sought higher education. However, our families were more than enough to credit our abilities.

I accepted her invitation without a second thought.

It was there at her home, that I realized whatever I had stumbled upon, was no mere illusion of the eye. Around the table were two others, clearly not medically inclined individuals by far. In the dank cellar, they seemed to be even more dangerous. One was easily more precarious than the other, but I could easily tell, neither woman, nor Yukino herself, were truly ready to discuss the matter at hand.

"Good of you to come on short notice, Shizuru. Given the circumstance, the nature of your letter was quite unsettling," Yukino said slowly. It was at that very moment that she pressed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "However, it was not the first report I've had on the subject. I predict it will be far from the last."

A small, uneasy smirk later, and the woman with long dark hair spoke. "I'd say that's a fair prediction."

"You'd say more," the redheaded woman interjected, "were your wits not left behind along with your excrement."

"Oh, and I suppose running sidelong into a nearby tree is the epitome of bravery."

I watched the exchange with an upraise brow, unsure what to make of it. The women were clearly exhausted and had seen their fair share of struggle. If it were me, I'd brew some chamomile and send them to the nearest inn for rest. The tension was thick, and I dared not make it worse. I knew by the dagger-like gaze of forest, and the glint of emerald, that I was in no position to offer them reprieve. I'd have to push my worries of their condition to the side.

Instead of addressing the two weathered visitors, I instead landed my gaze upon Yukino herself. "You share my concerns," I assumed quickly. "My experience was no mere coincidence then?"

"Coincidence, maybe," Yukino murmured. "Normalcy on the other hand…"

A shrug punctuated her statement, and I nodded. I could understand her tribulation well. "Indeed, it seems rather odd, doesn't it?"

It was then that gem-like eyes met mine. Leering at me from across the table, the long haired woman was not amused with my assessment. "We have all read your letter, that's the nature of our respite here. Yukino was kind enough to share it with us, and we were interested in meeting. My friends and I are not unlike yourself, we've come across similar experiences."

A dark chuckle fall from between sneering lips. "If that's all you have to say about it, Natsuki, you truly are a coward," leaning forward then, her knife pierced the table. "Juliet died because of you."

Emerald eyes closed, dismayed by the memory. Lifting a grog to her lips, she paused, setting it back down. "Juliet died because I can't shoot ghosts with bullets."

Was it pain, or hatred? I could not decipher what lingered between the two of them. Before I could make the inquiry however, a groan came from the far side of the room. Soon after, a woman sat upright, her head covered in bandages. "I already have a headache, don't make it worse by bickering."

"Ah, perfect timing," Yukino said as she went to aid the battered woman. "I believe introductions are in order. This woman you see here, she is a survivor."

"We all are," said the woman of blood red hair.

"Lucky to be out alive," the woman with midnight, agreed.

"By the napes of our necks, we are. I'd hardly call that luck," the final woman said. She was rather well-endowed, strawberry-blonde tresses peaking from under the scraps of cloth. Linens covered her body, but it was the smell that bothered me. There was a reek I could not place, but, it was by no means something I was a stranger to. "This isn't over. They hunt for sport, whoever they are."

Ill flesh, perhaps, one that had been cindered by great heat...yes, surely that was the scent my nose kept catching. "Whoever indeed...ghosts perhaps," I said then, feeling as though I was beginning to understand the nature of the beast. "That is what they are, yes?"

A soft clearing of the throat, and we waited for Yukino to collect her thoughts. After a few moments, she inclined her head, rubbing her temple as she spoke. "That would be what experience suggests," Yukino nodded as she turned to the short redhead. "Nao, if you would do the honors?"

The short woman with blood red hair stood up, gathering another lamp from the far corner of the room. She lit it with a match, the sulfur burning my lungs as I inhaled. She looked as that of a killer. The flickering lamp did little to gentle the pierce of her gaze. It was even more frightful as she neared, setting the lamp atop the table. The map that rested there was easier to see.

"As a saboteur, I have seen a great many things in my time. I've committed my fair share of interrogations. Many that were, shall we say, unsightly," frowning deeply, she sat back down at the table.

"Your joy of the Judas Cradle notwithstanding," The bandaged woman muttered, sounding displeasure at the mere thought.

"Or, may god help us, The Pear of Anguish," Natsuki -as she had been called- added disdainfully. A pallor tint reached her cheeks.

"Yes, well racks, water, and whips have their limits, I'm afraid," Nao said unflinchingly. Elbows resting atop the wood, she perched her chin atop her thumbs. "I've spent a great deal of time plundering criminal minds. I can say with absolute certainty; I have never once come across a ghost."

"A priestess ghost, no less," Natsuki added.

"Natsuki, we have no proof that it is a ghost," Nao seemed bothered by even her own admission. "However, what we do know, is that all activity begins here," A limb jutted to the paper upon the table. I took a look at the map, and just where Nao's finger pointed. An abandoned city, long left to the ashes. "If we are to suspect apparitions, a truly impudent assumption in my opinion, but, _if_ we were to do so, we'd find them here."

I studied the location before, but I had never once given thought to it. I swallowed hard. "Black Valley."

"You've heard tell of it, good," deadly verdant eyes lifted to mine. "That makes things easier."

"Truth be told, that should be expected," I said with only sincerity. "I don't know of anyone in my particular profession to be ignorant of it."

"Herbalists must be scholarly by nature," Yukino added in my defense.

"True," Nao affirms with a stiff nod. "Truer still, that many remain blinded by fear. Most would sooner crucify themselves than speak of the place."

It was a test, of that I was sure. A leather clad hand raised, I could see bruising upon Natsuki's fair skin. The action was simple enough to divert my thoughts and halt my tongue. I had not realized that the dark haired woman was also injured. With a careful breath, she spoke. "I think, what my acerbic friend is trying to say; is that many who do know, wouldn't let slip the truth of it."

I nodded, it was no small matter. "Clearly, I'd expect not. It isn't as if we're tittering about a mere house of worship," I knew exactly what the Black Valley was. "What we speak of, is human sacrifice. Young women, gutted, and gifted to the gods."

"To the lords of men too," Nao said quietly.

"Yes, them as well. they hungered for it," I agreed. "I shall tell you all that I know, but I admit, I am no expert on the subject."

My father kept archives on the Black Valley. Texts that I used to read in my spare time. Much of it was little to speak of.

Some several hundreds of years ago, when mankind was still naive, a group of political officials made a particularly strange request – off the record at that. They asked a group of spies to conduct a proper investigation in the north. The region we know to this day as Black Valley. At the time, it was a sparsely populated area, with little to recommend of it. It was a land thought to be inhospitable, and yet, strangely enough, some people journeyed there.

Political figureheads of many countries wanted to know why. It wasn't as if the land had any material value. The waters weren't clean. The land while lush and fruitful, were not without dangers. Surely a few wise people could survive, but no simple peasant. No passerby would willingly choose to stay, not with his family, and never without kin. It was too dangerous.

Even the gods themselves proclaimed it to be so.

While it was true that many claimed traveling to Black Valley was sacrilege, there were many non-believers who pushed the claim aside. There were also others, fanatical worshipers, who believed that the travelers were messiah. People sent to greet the gods, and bring back words from the almighty beings. It was anyone's guess, the truth could have been anything.

Off the spies went, to find the truth. What was discovered, was little more than abhorrent.

Mounds of dead, decaying bodies littered the small huts. Religious scriptures were reported have been set ablaze. Incoherent writing slathered the walls, feces and blood used to paint the words. Beheaded men garbed in cloth lay at the entrance and exits of every outpost…and if all of that were not enough to send the spies running, the discarded bodies of several priestesses were surely enough to do the job.

Sickened by what they encountered, the spies set flame to the evidence. They reported that nothing was amiss to the scribes upon their return. Some of them, those who were loyal to their masters, spoke of things even more sinister. Bodies used as canvases for warnings. Full songs, ones to send away the dead, were carved into the flesh and bone the priestesses. One particularly defiled woman was wrapped in the purest white.

Little more is truly know about the finer details.

It was years after the fact, that the events were brought to the attention of the public. A civil war sent unrest between the northern territories, and the southern ones were not far behind. Riots burst from the streets, and raids pillaged small villages. The fighting grew, and in fits of blind animosity, saboteurs would send entire homes aflame. Dynamiting entire cities into ruin became a beloved tactic. In an attempt to survive, refugees fled to the one place no one would think to look for them.

Black Valley.

Once the civil wars ended, the refuges did not return.

"You know a great deal," Nao said once I'd finished relating what little I knew. "More than I'd expect of a mere herbalist."

"It is time to cut the fat," Natsuki seemingly agreed. "Mai, if you would please."

The woman lifted a hand to her face, peeling back a few of the wrappings to get a better look at me. As I had suspected, her body had been terribly burned. "Nao spends her days as a saboteur, she knows more than the rest of us. Yet, even she doesn't know everything. To be honest, none of us do," her one good eye met mine. The other I could only vaguely see peering at me beneath the cloth. "A priestess floating in the air told me that she going to kill me. I…I have no idea why."

"Mai is not the only one to say that, either," Nao said whilst gritting her teeth. "There's been no few claims, all unrelated, yet all similar…even still, I hesitate to say they are in fact ghosts."

"There have been several sightings," Natsuki proclaimed as she solemnly placed her gun onto the table. "I've been trying to think of a way to end them. Bullets don't do any damage. How could it be anything else?"

"I don't know," Nao hissed. "Regardless, my trade demands logic. Ghosts are not logical. They're a child's nightmare, nothing more."

"Then what, exactly, do you know?" I asked. Directly eying the saboteur with every ounce of scrutiny I could afford.

"One priestess calls fire from her hands alone. Another wields a bow," ticking them off on her fingers, Nao continued. "Two of them carry swords, one the exact opposite of the other," the count was up to four. Further still, she counted. "One cloaked in pure white has been said to use a flute. Some think her to be a bard, not a priestess. Either way, that makes five in total."

"Priestess though she is," Mai said eerily. "I know what I saw Nao."

"I'm not arguing a few women of the cloth decided to lose their bloody minds," came the biting retort. "I'd sooner claim insanity, than claim the rising of the dead."

I felt the same way, vexed by the overall realities. Yet, I could not get the woman's image out of my mind. Her terror, her screams, they must have been real. As real as my retching of fluids that night had been, as real as the cleanup of them the next day. I had to believe that, or, I'd have nothing else to keep faith in. "I am no expert in the mind, not as my father was. However, I do know that this is no mere nightmare."

"Mai's body is proof enough of that," Natsuki agreed. "If not a ghost, then what exactly? It wasn't as if she just skipped into a fire's pit, Nao."

"Stranger things have happened," Nao pointed out. "Deadly things."

"Juliet lost her head! It was lobbed clean off, right in front of you!" Natsuki roared, her rage so sharp, it sent tremors into my own beating heart. I'd never felt such anger wave off another person…at least, no sane person. "No weapon, nothing in sight, and you claim it is not a ghost that did it?!"

"I'd claim a curse over a ghost," Nao kicked Natsuki's chair over in her fury. "The gods gave us a warning, that's all, Natsuki."

"God or ghost, no man alive did this," I say as they begin to cool their tempers. There was, in fact, more to the story. More to what transpired after the refugees fled. "The matter is Euclid, I agree. However it is still a matter none the less."

I relate what little I know of the aftermath. It isn't much, and I can tell Nao already knows what I'm about to say.

It was murmured, among particular circles, that the refuges had been driven to madness. It was said they raided nearby villages of women and children. Others claimed that those women and children were forced away from their homes. Exiled, after being judged as something, or someone, otherwise unsafe. Whatever the reason was, it was abnormal to speak the least.

Many wondered about the true nature of events, and the staggering numbers of outcasts going to Black Valley.

Some say they were condemned, but that didn't hold up logically. There were no recorded trials, and if there were charges placed against them, no scribe had detailed them. Even if there were charges upon an adult woman, rare were the times such a thing would happen to a youth. Stranger still, the lack of captive women carried to jail raised no few questions.

This unfortunately brought the eventual argument that the women were bewitched, or at the very least, out of their deity fearing minds.

Either way one tried to spin it, the lack of evidence was perhaps the most damning bit of it. Rulers in those days, from what the records mention of it, were not opposed to flogging anyone in front of all to see. They were not above torture, nor below anarchy. They were, by and large, ironfisted rulers of the era. The missing women and children concerned even them.

Rightly so, when one understood the implication.

If such punishments were easily doled out, the rulers in question had to have known –and be the root cause- of the disappearances. Many villages and kingdoms in the region suspected high-treason somewhere within the sprawling lands, but even that came up empty. When rulers were accused of using the women as opium induced slaves, more fighting came about.

Opium was addictive, but to use it for slavery was the lowest a person could go.

It was then, that the first sighting of the priestess sent ripples of change. Murmurs traveled amongst only the most influential of people. The person who left the penning on the page was none other than a princess. She too, had suddenly gone missing. Furthermore, her records indicated that something was quite amiss. That although a great travesty had occurred, she had no true explanation for the sights she'd seen.

Yet, what she detailed, was alarmingly close to what the spies had seen in their travels.

Visions of girls, young and old, set aflame while still alive. Lambs to the slaughter, priestess pit against priestess. Battles to the death were common, torture equally so. Even more horrifying yet, were the ones fancied by men before their judgement day. Hungers of the flesh, becoming more than mere desires. Those particular passages speak the worst, ending before their true completion.

It was suggested, although not confirmed, that the princess died whilst writing the final few pages.

I tell the women around the table to great length, and even greater care, that my father was given these passages by a friend of his. That the written proof of these documents are in my own home, well hidden amongst the rest of my father's work. After I finish, the cold room grows even colder, and much more silent.

Finally, it is the gunner who speaks. "Such travesties," she murmurs awed and confused. There was a strange sort of accusation in her gaze, and her tone reflected it. "You do realize, that if the story about the book is to be believed, the princess had to have died in the castle."

Nao had put the pieces together as well. "And walked out as a corpse."

"That was the implication, yes," I said, before another thought came to my mind. I smirked somewhat sadly. "Mai, you have encountered a vision of a priestess too. What was it that you faced? More aptly, what vision did you see?"

Her lips trembled, fear, I was sure of it.

"I do not remember much," she said as she glanced over to Natsuki and Nao. "What I do recall, was fire. It was on everything, and everyone. I couldn't see beyond it, and although I could not feel heat, I could feel the melting of my skin. Perhaps, you should see," when both of her friends nodded, she turned to Yukino. "If you would, please."

Yukino licked her lips, nodding roughly. "This Shizuru, is why I sent you notice. I thought it prudent of you to meet these women."

She unwrapped the cloth bindings gently, removing several layers before Mai's skin came into view. It was torn from her body in chunks, gashes sure to leave scars. They oozed yellow and pink. Pus and blood mixing. Worrying still, was that her whole body was covered with such dressings. I could not comprehend the nature of what exactly I saw.

"Ripped her skin right off," Nao said bitterly with a shake of her head. "Damn near died."

"I felt my skin melting, what else was I to do?" Mai asked, to which none of us had an answer.

"I'd like to see for myself the extent, if I may," I bit my lower lip as Mai nodded. "Bring her to the medical table," I said to Yukino before turning to the other two. "You two, gather fresh water from the well, boil it hard and long, and then once it has cooled enough to touch, bring it us," my interest was nipping at my heals. "Let me see your wounds…Yukino, opium please. Removing the cloth will no doubt be painful."

"Right away." Yukino nodded. The dressings were soon to be needing change anyway, and that was to be an ordeal. After administering the drug of choice, I undressed Mai's bandages slowly, Yukino at my side. The fabric stuck to the healing flesh, dragging painfully upon removal. Moisture seeped from the cuts, patches of skin were so rancid it would take several hours in which to clean and air them dry again.

"These…these are medical," I said pointing to a few very particular, meticulous cuts. "A barber did this?"

"I did," Yukino said as she crossed her arms.

"I thought you more a leech than I barber," I said quietly, awed by her careful work. "I knew your mother had once been given some training under a barber in her youth. However, I hardly assumed she passed that onto you."

"True," Yukino said with a soft laugh. "I'm not exactly what one would call an expert in bloodletting," she indicated a few places where her work was less than acceptable, and then went to gather medicines for the wounds. "I know enough of it to get by. I was careful to observe proper protocol as best as I could."

"Bloodletting, the humor of air, correct?" I was no doctor, merely a woman who knew a great deal of herbal remedies, and a great many ways to employ them. "Was it not fire that scorched her?"

Yukino made a noise that, to me at least, sounded very uncertain. "True the marks are burns, and true the humor for fire is actually yellow bile. One must wonder, was it truly fire that caused such injury. Or, was it merely the vision that inspired the burning?"

"So, you chose air. The humor of blood, to try and bring it into alignment with the others," I found myself interested, very much so. Never once had I fully taken the time to understand the logic behind the practices my father taught me. "She lives, so one can only applaud your skill."

"I would not send such praise. Too soon for it. It may be pure luck," she told me, a twinge of shyness cropping up. She doubted her abilities the same as she always seemed to. "Infection has yet to set in, but, by the looks of these wounds…"

She didn't need to speak it. I understood. I switched gears, forcing away the thought of another dead girl on my hands. "Tell me, do you think my personal experience a fabrication?"

"Well, that's fairly hard to say…"

"Yukino, please. Now is not the time to treat me as a common villager."

"Even if I wanted to give you an answer based on assumption, I would still be unable. Opiates are complicated," pacing for a moment, she turned to me. Handing me a clay jar of ointment she finally nodded. "If it is merely the matter of a hallucination, yes. It is possible."

"Forgive me my friend, you see a little disquieted," I say, as I begin to slather the sticky aloe on the burned woman.

"You claim that a woman pronounced dead vanished from thin air," Yukino protested, her words still soft. "That she might as well have gotten up and walked out of the door."

"Indeed, I did say that," I sighed. "Furthermore, seeing someone in this state...well, I feel that warrants my validation."

"I'd call both events quite strange, wouldn't you?"

I had to agree. "There isn't a question."

Hot, but not scalding water was carried in by the short saboteur. She eyed me, and I returned her gaze. Yukino took to tending to Mai's painful sores, washing them first with hot water, and then dousing them with a tincture made to disinfect. I knew it would take some time, so I followed Nao out from the cellar. Inclined to understand her, we made our way to the yard.

It was filled with flowers much like my own. Many were medicinal, others were to keep the wildlife at bay.

"There was fire," Nao told me suddenly. "I could feel it, smell it, and the stench of searing flesh," looking at me again with that skeptical gaze, a snort followed. "You ever smell a person burning alive? It smells just as it sounds."

I nod, knowing all too well of the stench. "I have helped burn victims in the past. It never has been a pleasant odor."

"It's sick."

"So is a woman without her innards," I find myself reeling on her. "Saboteur, you are too wise. Speak, tell me more."

"I will tell you only one thing. Black Valley wasn't uninhabited. It did prove useful," she replied as she rolled a mix of dried substances inside of a thin piece of paper. "Holy land, mostly."

Crassly put, but yes. They were holy lands, if one could truly call them such. "It is as you say. Not even the gossip mongers would dare speak ill of Black Valley. In spite of every reason not to, you do. Why speak of it at all? Why seek trouble?"

"Those things seek their own victims," Nao replied icily. I can smell lemon's balm in the smoke she breathes. A nervous condition, likely, and I can't say I fault her the remedy. "Now, whatever those things are, they want Mai."

Natsuki, who had been resting among the flowers chose that single moment to perk up. She sent me a glance. It was one of appraisal, lingering over me, as if I too, were some sort of demon. "I happen to be military turned bounty hunter," she says as she puts some sort of medallion away. Why she kept it, I haven't a clue. "Nao is one of the finest arsonists to ever have been born," she stands and walks near, until she's no more than a stone's throw away. "Now you, herbalist, seek to know the truth too."

At that Nao chortles, smoke billowing from her lips. "A rather mottled crew. Hades hath no greater fury than a group such as ourselves. We're begging to flogged to the brink, if I do say so myself."

"That's why we have Mai," Natsuki says with a shake of her head. Then, she eyes me once more. "We're going to the Black Valley once Mai seems fit for travel. We'd like to see for ourselves what rests between here and domination."

"Could use a medic," Nao adds with a grin. "If, that is, you are brave enough to keep the piss from dribbling between your legs."

"I'm by no means a medic," I say with a shake of my head. "I'm hardly a barber, either. Merely a simple herbalist's daughter."

"You know the land, do you not?" Natsuki asks me, her footfalls steady as she paces back and forth. "Say, for example, what this does to a person?"

"Horehound," I was indeed of the skill my father intended for my particular trade. If it was an explanation of the flower in her hands she wanted, it was an explanation she would get. "Primarily used in antidotes to subjugate poisons. Some say it could be used to thwart the spells of witches, if you believe those exist too."

"Don't toy with me. There is more, I see it withheld at the tip of your tongue." Natsuki growled darkly. "I'm responsible for the safety of my kin. Now answer me well, what else does this flower do?"

I sigh at the long haired woman, she isn't daft when it comes to digging out information. Perhaps she'd learned more from Nao than I thought. "Repertory, it could be used to remedy a cough," at that, I pluck the plant from between her fingertips. "I should remind you, it is merely a flower. Until brewed with water it holds no value. I wouldn't advise you to eat it, either."

Natsuki seemed satisfied enough with that answer, and leaned on the side of the wooden door, arms crossed. With a breath, she turned to me. "I've seen war, tasted blood, and marched upon the most forsaken ground you'd come across. I'd walk anywhere…anywhere but Black Valley."

"With an unbloodied woman no less," Nao speaks.

"Unbloodied, but not untainted," Natsuki says to me, having come to a rather personal conclusion. "True, you're no barber surgeon. Yet you peel back the flesh of an ailing woman anyway."

"It was malpractice," I said with a shake of my head. "Positively speaking, she would have died without help."

"Ironically, you could not guarantee her life. You'd sooner become a butcher and fail, than watch her die unaided," Nao grinned darkly, in a way that I found most unsettling. "That takes gull, I like gull."

"There must be more than meets the eye," Natsuki told me as she pulled back the flower, squashing it in her bare hand. "I intend to find out what that is, but I –we- cannot go alone. We need someone who knows how to treat wounds, and care for sickness."

"Black Valley is little more than plagued lands. Even I could help, it would be minimal," I warn her. "I am no conjurer, nor a barber. I'd no sooner be able to extract tooth and bone, than you would be able to boil a balm for burns."

"You're no warrior either," Nao said quietly, that deadly glint in her eyes once more. "We break a limb, we'll lob it off and feed it to the beasts."

Natsuki held up not only her hand, but this time her sword. The tip aimed directly at Nao's neck. With a sigh, she sheathed her blade once more. It was a strange way to communicate, yet the two of them seemed to be masters at it. A language only for them to know, and no one else to find out. Before I could really consider the implication, Natsuki pulled the thick medallion of her pocket once more.

There was an inscription there, but of what, I remained unsure. I couldn't see the words in the sun's low light. After some time, she pocketed the treasure. "You want to go, Shizuru, I'll take you," Natsuki muttered with gritted teeth. "I owe your father that much."

"Why?" I didn't expect an answer, so I was surprised to receive one.

"Shared history, adversity, promises…blood oaths. Ten years of hardship, anyway you look at it. Helping you is the least we could do," Natsuki said in way of explanation. "The princess you speak of, for example, is as good a reason as any. She was none other than the late Chikane Himemiya, murdered one day before her succession of the throne. Passed down from generation to generation, until ten years ago, when the last Himemiya by blood died."

"You have Chikane Himemiya's old records because your father protected them," Nao interjected solemnly. "For that we all owe him our lives."

"I'd like it back," Natsuki said to me. "Consider it payment for Nao's sword, and my gun."

Payment for protection. A saboteur, a bounty hunter, and an injured woman I had no idea what to make of. If I would get answers for my struggles remained unknown. Logic told me that these women risked life and limb for the uncanny. They were indeed a mottled crew, perhaps, but no greater a group would visit me.

Of that, I was sure. I had no choice but to pay, my very instinct demanded it.

…

* * *

 **Krissy:** I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Fratricide. However, it is quite late, and I must bid you a goodnight.


	3. The Memoir, Part 2

**_The upgrade to windows 10 was not as smooth as I would have liked it to be, however, it is with my great pleasure that I present you with this chapter. It is not as gory as the earlier installments, the darker imagery given a short respite for now. Even so, I hope you'll find it to your liking. The next available update: August 22, 2015._**

 **Fratricide: The Memoir, Part 2**

The earliest tomes were written of mostly hogwash. Each with an agenda, loyalty kept well in mind. Very few older records remain impartial when it comes to Black Valley. The reason for this; twofold. Firstly, only the bravest of the brave traveled there. Secondly, only those with proper protection lived to write and distribute the tales of their travels. Early on, such memoirs were only written by scribes, and upon the return of each expedition, truths were expunged. Or, at the very least were never there at all.

To be expected, lest the unthinkable happen.

Chronicles had been kept throughout the ages, and with every passing year, more scholars were made from the men and women of studious intent. So with the insight came along discoveries and theories. With the rise of a new era farmlands saw growth in population, but, those countryside's were far too week to keep political power for themselves.

Instead, the peoples would congregate into towns and villages only to pursue trades and indulge industries.

It was no simple task to buy freedom from warlords, or to prove ones worth enough to the governments. Most of them were kingdoms, and as such rein came down to the voices of a selected few, not a grand many. However, because of this, when commerce did come to the countryside, it came with the promises of greatness.

Even though the peoples found themselves freed from the shackles of slavery, they were still bound by other means. Survival is a strange thing. Even to this day I do not fully understand it. Then again, perhaps it is the test of life itself, that so drives people to their brink.

It could be so, I, myself a fitting example.

I don't know what I had been thinking. When I willfully agreed to Natsuki's request, it's doubtful I had been thinking at all. I could not guarantee her happiness, even if I had the item she had been looking for. I couldn't even be sure I would be able to afford the group the safety. It was a choice I made by instinct, not clarity. My words and thoughts were common knowledge.

They had to have been, lest I forget the implications of such a thing. To speak of the topics that we insane few gravitated towards, well, it was lunacy. After all, our words, our plan, it was mere slander in and of itself.

God fearing men, and the politically wise, held but one singular belief pertaining to Black Valley.

One should not go, nor should they even speak of travel to such a place. While idly amusing though their fears were, there was some truth to the horror of it. Men feared the unknown, and it was quite commonly agreed that myths were best left untouched. Many kings and queens grew fearful of the blather found amongst common folk. Rapidly, they instilled a law to prevent gossip.

Most of all, they wished to prevent the tenuous murmurs from growing into an all-out roar among the masses.

History had proved one too many times that revolts would not end well. They came to a conclusion easily. It was forthright, decisive, and above all else, threatening. A gag order was put into place. There were a set of rules that had to be given abidance, or else the accused would be tried and prosecuted as a criminal. Many with loose lips had actually suffered trial, and undergone the punishment. Some rulers were more lenient than others, but the loss of a tongue was not unheard of.

It was, in fact, the most doled of all the sentences.

Even the most dimwitted commoner knew better than to test the ire of the governments. It was no mere joke, and the rulers didn't think idly of child's play. My father once said that some people were murdered by fellow countrymen. The mere utterance of Black Valley was enough to cultivate violent rage. The fear was that great, and over the years, it hadn't subsided. It was no surprise that even the ones condemned didn't begrudge their prosecutors.

Not all were punished, however.

There were but three requirements to speak of Black Valley freely.  
Firstly, one had to be an educated individual.  
Secondly, it could not be done within the public domain.  
Most importantly, the parties involved in the conversation had to have expressed consent from royalty.

Due to the nature of these rules, many were not too keen on defying the ban. I'm sure it was because the punishments were doled out liberally. Silence became the eventual result. If silence could not be attained, curtain death surely would be.

I had no idea what prompted me to deviate so willingly from the laws at hand. I was even more shocked that such news hadn't gotten me lynched or worse for my transgressions. That I even received a positive reply at all was rather odd in my opinion. Oddities aside, I could not turn away my desire for answers. Leading Natsuki's travel party back to my home, it was there that I produced for them the one thing that they craved.

"This is it," I said, as a gently removed the dust from the tome.

Natsuki took it from my hands, thumbing the contents briskly. "Pages are missing," she said after a few short moments. Turning to me with no small amount of ire, she unleashed that rage into one single monotone question. "Were you aware that this had been tampered with?"

"I was young," I said with a small shrug. "I have no idea what condition it arrived in, or even how it got here."

"Aye, no matter," Nao nodded. "It is what we're looking for, isn't it?"

"This is the crest of the Himemiya family," Mai assured as she peered over Natsuki's shoulder, looking upon the stamps upon each page. "There is also another stamp on the outside. Strange, it is not from castle Himemiya though. It isn't Tokiha either, we don't carry wolves in our family crest."

"That would be my mother's doing," Natsuki explained as she took a seat in a nearby wicker chair. "The Kuga family crest has a wolf in it. She probably branded it to mark it as a calling card."

I felt confused by this, utterly so. "So you've said before, but I don't understand why, Natsuki. Perhaps, if you were so inclined, you could tell me at least that much?"

Emerald eyes lifted, hardened with anger. "I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me."

"It is possible my father shared some sort of correspondence with her…something of a friendship, maybe?"

Natsuki seemed discomforted by that, and took to toying around with some of the other books left to rest in the corner. "She was the wise woman of castle Himemiya. That is, before it fell into ruin over ten years ago. As a scholar of some of the finest standing, she felt it prudent to keep it safe. My mother fell ill shortly after that. How the book came to arrive here, I haven't a clue…but, she respected your father's work."

"My father, he was an eccentric man," I said slowly as I considered that. "It is possible that he is the one who pulled the pages out. All of his studies remain on this shelf, although if he did go to such lengths, I doubt you'll find them here."

"Quite right," Natsuki agreed as she handed the aged tome over to Mai, who in spite of her injuries insisted on searching the book further. "Here, take it. I can't promise you'll find what you're looking for though."

Mai seemed only spurred on by the admission. "Anything is better than nothing."

Nao seated herself upon a stool, leaning forward as she dug through a box of loose papers. "Nothing is still a step in the right direction," she said as she flipped through some old notes with a leveled gaze. "If we were to acquire information so easily, I'd be tempted to think it falsehood."

Natsuki merely sighed at this, flicking some of her long dark tendrils behind her shoulder. The gunner had a somewhat haughty demeanor exuding from her, in a way that would otherwise seem offensive to the eye. Natsuki was a beauty though, even with her head inclined just so, peering at Nao with little more than aggravation. "Falsehood or not, we still need something more to go by. A map of the old trails, or maybe a few paintings of the landmarks..."

"You need no more than your eyes for that," Nao snorted with dark amusement. "Your nose too. Death happens every day, and you're well acquainted with that stench. Follow the trail of blood, and you'll find what you want."

Natsuki shrugged at that, seeming to begrudgingly agree. "Or a fist full of angry murders, thieves, and other trash of the like."

"Who else would live in the place? Black Valley is a land tainted in blood, even if it is a holy land. I'd sooner see a rapists that a priest anyway," Nao chuffed with a laugh. "Can stab the former and be praised by the latter."

Neither Natsuki, nor Mai, or myself for that matter, were willing to question Nao's assessment. Discomforted by the mere thought of killing alone made me queasy, but to think of a degenerate man with a taste for women…truly, I had no way to stifle the ills in my belly. I'd seen such havoc before, I'd not think of the worst in my mind. Clearing my throat, and the burbling taste of bile that lingered there, I turned to my squealing tea kettle.

I selected a particular leaf for Mai's cup, it would soothe her aching body, or so I hoped. It was meager and a little bitter, but it would go well with the bread glazed with honey I'd use to accompany it. Honey, after all, was great for any ills, or so my father believed. Never a cure, but always a treat for the soul. "Mai, your bandages will need changing once again. You might want to prepare for such time, as I'm afraid I'm not as well practiced as Yukino."

"It does not hurt as it once did," Mai assured me with a tiny shake of her head. I could see she was still displeased either way. "I feel that I am well now. Well enough at least to endure the pulling of the fabric."

I glance to the cotton cloth. "The yellowing and pinking splotches on the linens tell me otherwise. Bravery does not make excuses for the fallen, and you are not yet safe from yourself."

"True, I still seep gore something awful, but I have avoided infection. That amounts to something, does it not?"

"Hm," I agree with a small nod. "It does. Poppy's milk is rather dangerous anyway. True, it cuts pain well, false that it is fail-safe. The sooner you can have your bandages changed without the aid of it, the sooner we may rest easy in your recovery."

"I doubt it will be painless, I wonder if it will even be tolerable," Mai said sadly. "Even still, I would like to try. There is something about poppy's milk that I find unsettling. I recall terrible things in my dreams, and they're colored grimly enough without the help."

"That makes sense," I say slowly. "Milk of the poppy is simply opium. It can cause hallucinations, but more than that, it can heighten the memories or moods of those who drink it. It is made to cause undignified responses."

"You can say that again, doc," Nao agreed, all humor drained from her voice. "Expensive drug that one. The markets will pay a hefty price, and we may need rooms at the inns northbound."

"Firstly, I'm no doctor," I sigh at length. "Secondly, I will not amuse the idea of trading drugs for a bed to sleep in. I have my pride."

"I'd suggest you forgo your pride quickly then," Nao told me, her words honest, her eyes wise. Those verdant pools were terrifying, even now, I could see the murderer within them, and the grin she expertly kept off of her lips. "There are few places to rest, the inns are our only option. Money, drugs, or sex. Those are the currency of the well traveled."

I clear my throat and change the subject. "If I may ask, where exactly did you acquire your injuries, Mai?" I asked her as I tended to some refreshments. "It could not be that you've already stepped foot into Black Valley once, have you?"

"No, of course not. I doubt I would have lived if that was the case. No use to hide it though. So, the truth then," with gentleness that her companions seemed to lack, she rested the book in her lap. "Tokiha is a well-respected family name. We're considered new money. Our influence isn't anywhere near what the Himemiya family was. Either way, we shared kinship."

"Relatives?" I was mildly shocked at this, the young woman in front of me seemed anything but royalty.

"Distant," Mai said quickly. "Illegitimate at that."

"I see, a baby born out of wedlock?"

"The first of the Tokiha bloodline was born a bastard son to a rather unruly young king," Mai said with a nod. "The Himemiya's were a monarchy. Men who sat upon the throne were there merely to provide seed for offspring. You can draw your own conclusions."

"There aren't many to draw. What little I do know of the Himemiya's stop short of old news clippings…and the book."

Mai shrugged, giving thanks in passing for the tea I placed in front of her. "Over the years, we've earned respect for our blood. However, it was no simple thing to do. I'm the eldest daughter in my generation."

"Successor to the Himemiya lands, you mean," Natsuki interjected as she sent Mai a rather rude stare. "The last female with any traceable Himemiya blood sits before you."

"Last of the Tokiha bloodline too," Nao added.

"We were in the castle when I was attacked," Mai explained as her hands fell over the bandages around her thighs. "I asked to be taken there, I'd never once stepped foot into the castle before. It was late at night too."

Mai's words made no sense to me. "I was under the assumption that was a holy place, sanctioned by the priesthood."

"You would be correct," Nao said when her search came up empty. Kicking the box back under the table she pulled it from, she cursed and leaned back upon the wall. Expertly balancing on the stool using only the two rear legs she grumbled. "It isn't open to the public. Natsuki's quick to claim haunting to be the cause, but, I'd sooner claim saboteurs such as myself."

That had never occurred to me. "Espionage?"

"Castle Himemiya alone sits on a fortune. Tainted riches, if the stories are to be believed," Nao said with a nod, and then a grin swept across her face. "Either way, one of a saboteur's many tasks is to keep away any unwanted guests."

"The Himemiya lands are now considered free country. There is no ruler, because there doesn't need to be one. The villages govern themselves," Mai said with a small laugh. "Most are quite small, so there is no true need for a military. Not to mention, it's all farmland. Without the backing of some type of ruler, the value of money drops significantly."

I could see the implied difficulties involved with such a thing. "No precious metals to back up the papers. There are metals that could back the currency inside of the castle, correct? Gold, silver, copper, and the like?"

"No doubt," Nao said, plucking some sort of metal canister from her pocket. "The problem is, that kind of thing wouldn't do the villagers any good. Greed or not, it doesn't matter to most." after swallowing her sip she capped the liquor once more.

"Money in all forms need to be equalized," Natsuki agreed as she finally abandoned the books that had once held her interest. "Even if a peasant could break into the castle, they'd find no value in the stolen goods. Without other kingdoms to trade with, the economy would still be the same."

"I see...another ruling kingdom, however, that's another matter," I said then, finally understanding. "They'd be able to give the currency context. With enough power, they'd conquer those old lands."

"Which, might not be a bad thing," Mai murmured.

I wasn't fully convinced. "It depends on the ruler, at least, I'd imagine."

"Even an abusive ruler wouldn't be that dimwitted. Farmland is valuable to anyone constantly at war. The people in the villages would be well taken care of. It would behoove the ruler to keep people healthy and the lands fertile. Slavery would be an afterthought," Mai grimaced with great pain. Every tiny movement pulled at her bandages, and I knew they would need to be changed sooner rather than later. "A harsh king would provide harsh protection."

That was an understatement, but I chose not to speak on it.

I grew up a handful kilometers outside the nearest village. I was several hundred away from any major city of merit. The land around me was all open fields. Meadows that were cultivated by my father, and passed down to me. The land was mine, not by birthrate, but rather mere convenience. Herbalists are meager, we don't have a high pay. In order to dole out the medicines I do at will, I need a vast, healthy field.

Those that own this quaint little province knows this fact. It does nothing for them to take away my land, so I am left peacefully alone. Even my taxes are lowered considerably, it isn't out of kindness. It is out of welfare. I'm the only one in these parts who can really concoct herbal remedies. Yukino is able to see to more devastating injuries, and there's even a few barbers surgeons a few days southbound.

The fact of the matter is, doctors are saved for the wealthy only.

The health of the people carry on as one might expect. Lackluster care equates to lackluster health, the best treatments are always preventive and cautionary at best. The worst of the cures can kill blindly. The ones most relied on, are done so by the grace of faith that it will work. It isn't exactly a prosperous life, and people die fairly young.

However, I am sure what life people do have, is life worth living to the limits.

The three women and I spent until sundown examining my father's study. We didn't speak idly during that time, when we did speak, most of it was rather daunting blather. Spoken words on lineage, historical events, plans for the north, and talk of the sightings. We glossed over a great many details, but never once took the time to delve into the truths of the matter.

After a meal of stew filled our bellies, Natsuki helped me to gather the plates, while Nao tended to the animals outside. "You do not have to journey with us. In fact, I wonder if…" the woman at my side paused and shook her head. "There is no point to wonder, is there? Black Valley is no safe hold, not even a lion's den."

"Then, what would you proclaim it to be?"

Natsuki not so much as flinched at my question. "A hole carved by demons, a tiny pit of hell upon this earth. That's what I think it to be."

"And your loyalty?"

"My loyalties do not concern you."

"You ask of my trust to your gun, but what of your honor?"

"What honor is there to have? We mean to investigate a place that has been rumored to be a deathtrap at best, a slaughterhouse for young girls at worst. If there is any truth to be had at all, do you think it could even be found in the likes of someone such as myself?"

I smiled at that. Natsuki was not trying to lie, not exactly, yet her motives were clear. "You are not the one leading this charge, you are merely an imposter upon which all assumption can be blamed upon. You do not treat Mai as a princess, yet, she is the one who wishes to see the truth for herself, is she not?"

"Mai's blood offers me protection from legalities, you're right about that. However, you also presume too much," she said, nearing me until she was merely a breath away. I could feel the anger there, as if right then she wanted to rip me to shreds. Maybe, in some small way, she did. As I stood there, I could not help but feel as if I understood the anguish in her words. Rage at some unseen force dissipated when she broke her gaze from mine, stepping away as quickly as she had been near.

Willpower, bloodlines, promises, she had given all of those reasons before.

"There is too much," Natsuki murmured then, her back to mine. "Too many questions, and no god-forsaken answers. I'll be damned if I don't find something to explain away the deaths of those nearest to those loyal to Himemiya. Ghosts or gods, man or woman, priests or priestesses, I don't care. I will put a stop to whatever cackles in the dead of night. I will put a stop to it, before it puts a stop to me."

"You are at risk?"

"We all are, Nao, Mai…even myself," Natsuki shook her head. "We are loyal to what once was a very prominent bloodline. When that bloodline fell, so shattered our homes and everything we held dearest to us. You would not, cold not, begin to understand."

I stood stunned in the room she left me in, unable to even find words for her retort. I had assumed that feral gaze of hers was a pain unlike any I had ever really known. My sufferings in life were dulled by the sense of loneliness and isolation. They were the echoes of madmen, not losses of kindred. My mother died when I was a mere tot, unable to stray far from her hip. My father's death was peaceful enough to soothe away any fears I may have held.

Natsuki's implication was different. Restless and angry.

That night, I put them to bed in my home. Nao slept upon my medical table, the only one not at all bothered by the stains surrounding the area. Mai was offered my bed, with the stipulation that I would reprise my father's old one. It was the only place I could be sure was sanitary enough for her wounds. I kept immaculate sheets, free from grime if I could manage it. That left Natsuki, who seemed contented enough to sleep on the roof outside.

Sleep would not come for me, because I had work to do. Evening Primrose, as its name implies, only blooms at night. I had to acquire them if I was planning to journey far from home. For women's health, it was the beast treatment for the pains and bloat of a cycle when brewed. It was also an effective topical pain killer, and soothing to rashes upon the skin.

They were nestled in the lowlands, and I thought nothing of it. The trip was rather routine. As I carefully plucked each and every flower that was in full bloom, I noticed a tiny glow in the forest ahead. My eyes trained on that soft blue light. A fire fly, I thought to myself. It was not uncommon for their glow to be of blue, or even red completion. The nectar in the flowers were to blame.

However, as it neared to me, it continually got bigger. Ever closer, until a figure could be made out. It hid amongst the trees, as if hoping I could not see it. Glance upon the woman though I did, I was unsure what unearthly sight stood before me. It was not normal, and yet, I sensed no malignancy.

No ill-intention.

A thought came to mind. The algae in the pond, the tiny organisms hiding within tended to glow under water. It could have been merely a normal woman who'd lost her way. I hoped that was the case. "You wouldn't happen to have fallen into the pond, have you? The algae is poisonous, you should rinse it off quickly."

"Many fates scorn you," her voice was gentle. Airy, and weighted with authority. It was unlike the usual types of women that I spoke to.

"I'm sorry, come again?"

"The fates. They are ruthless, sinful, truly so I believe. It would be best to keep your distance. Fate is not so easily appeased, but you may yet have a chance."

"You're the one who sent the parchment," I concluded with nearly grim certainty. "Gifting it to a woman bound for death, you decided her fate, didn't you?"

"Oh please, I am not so brash," the figure laughs then. "There is a terror greater than I, and she lurks in these woods on this night. I come only to warn you, not to take you."

From beyond the bark of the thick trees a young woman, frozen by her own blue glow, stood before me. Her hair was so, a dark snow. Her eyes were cold, shimmering in both sadness and wisdom. Even her cheeks were porcelain in their pallor. Devastatingly beautiful, but sickly all the same. She was perhaps a maiden from the tales, her garb stated as much, though I could not discern from where she came.

"You play a dangerous game you see, and you are no more a mouse skittering about currently. I think it best you remember that."

Her garments were strange ones, not like the usual white and red that I would usually see in these parts. Priestess, princess, or merely some lunatic woman from some far off land, I could not be sure. Even so, I knew she was not of the living.

"Then why warn me, here, of all places?" I demanded to know that much. "Why not my guests, who've seen you before?"

"They've not seen me, I promise. This is my domain. When a priestess dies, she may only become visible to the living via a shared connection. I do not reach out to them, because, quite frankly, they could never see me. They do not have that ability. You, however, are different. You are kindred, and not entirely unlike myself. We share many...particular qualities...shall we say."

"I suppose you mean to tell me the meadow has something to do with it," it was unbelievable. I was talking to a ghost. Anyone with half a wit about them would assume I'd lost my marbles. I was actually inclined to agree. Since I was already involved with blasphemy, I saw no reason not to continue amusing the completely absurd notion. "You do realize, even the insane would find this hard to believe."

"That is mere coincidence, nothing more. Chikane, as it is written, means thousand scattered flowers. It was my name upon my birth, and thus, it is my medium upon my death."

"Quite the thing to say," I monotone, unsure of the soft smile that she affords me. She seems somehow sinister, and yet, I cannot place why. "Convenient, if I had to name it."

"Here among the flowers, my soul lingers gently. If I were to leave the flowers, you may very well become my next victim. The dead are scornful of the living, after all. It may not be a blind rage, but, it is a rather indiscriminate one. We cannot linger in one spot forever, but to travel offers only torture."

"You seek rest, do you not?"

"Rest…to lay one down in peace. That is a strange word. I don't think I'm capable of that. I doubt the others are, either."

"There must be something that can be done."

"I have come merely to tell you; keep safe. Your future would best be assured if you lingered in your little home. You can choose not to heed my warning, but, to do so only asks for trouble. Should we cross paths again, you had best hope that it is amongst flowers. I cannot promise that I will not end you otherwise."

Compelled to both stay my place and run fleeing for my life at the same time, I found myself unable to move. My legs had no vigor, as if my feet were rooted to the ground. It was her eyes, I decided then. Those cold eyes. Deep with pain, shallow with any passing consideration. I was no more to her than a momentary distraction, of that I could be sure. Her stance was so casual that it nearly owned me, I realized perhaps that was not far from the truth. I could have been at her complete mercy.

I would not have known of her existence under any other circumstance.

There was a cold sense of death even in her words, ironically twisting around kindness that her voice seemed to gift them. When no more words echoed, it came down to our shared gaze. I felt myself step backwards. Even the rustling grass pounded in my ears for that one instant. This was no safe haven, no harbor upon which I could rest.

I could feel hot breath from behind me. A single pale hand wrapping its way across my shoulder. It pulled me backwards with one fluid motion. Cold metal kissed the nape of my neck. A knife's edge licking at the crimson that seeped from my newly acquired wound. I merely swallowed, and winced as the blade cut further.

I dared hardly breathe after that, a lump in my throat so large, my scream was no more than a squeak. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out further. Yet, the woman still in front of me seemed neither bothered nor concerned for me. My predicament seemed to be my own to suffer through.

Instead, she plucked an apple from the tree nearest her, biting into it for just a small taste.

"Fear not, and cease trembling. She cannot hurt you, not in this place…at least, not whilst I'm here. I swear it," blue eyes cut to the woman behind me. Sadness wetting the chill and warming the once frozen emotion there. "Himeko, put the woman at ease and release her. Killing in a place such as this is unnecessary, and also unacceptable. Join me instead, we have precious few hours until sunrise."

All at once the sinister presence behind me released her grip, stepping through me. The girl was so young. Dressed oddly too, but it was the look of a cindered body that so amazed me. Her clothing was torn, and what had to have been golden hair seemed withered by great suffering. Fire perhaps, but even worse were the effects of war upon her body. Gashes and slashes of a brutal fight. A deep wound had to have been inflicted just above her heart. That was the largest stain upon her body.

Her suffering had been slow, but her death was likely a quick one.

Hand in hand the girls stood, but it was the woman with the midnight blue hair that spoke to me one final time before vanishing entirely.

"The shadow of scorn grows nigh, but a shadow can only be cast when light is near."

For this, I had no answer. I fled back to my home, leaving my basket behind.


	4. The Memoir, Part 3 (Final)

**_Short chapter this week, I delve deeper into the books as summer goes on. In fact, that's why this post was a few hours late in coming. University once again darkens my doorstep and I must be prepared. Unfortunately immersive study leaves me haggard, so I apologize for any spelling errors on my behalf._**

 ** _My next post will be longer, and will be available for update:_** _**September 6th, 2015**_

 _ **(Previous date amended because of study group now takes place on Saturday, and that is out of my control.)**_

* * *

 **Fratricide: The Memoir, Part 3**

I returned home as silently as I had left, fear distant, and yet my heart throbbed from the agony. My pace was fast, one foot in front of the other, a rush of endorphins so powerful I found my forehead beading in sweat. It trickled over my cut, the sting a reminder of the close brush with death. I found myself highly alert, eerily calm, and morbidly bothered by my fascination with the women in the woods.

Yet, fascination or obsession aside, they held my interest. Clawing at my mind, rattling away at my logic, and my senses. I had to know more, had to glean insight anyway I possibly could. I knew at that moment, I'd have to backtrack over what my mind had stumbled upon many times before. It was a completely insane notion to try over and over, but by instinct I reacted.

The first thing I did was pry that demonic tome of my concern from Mai's sleeping body.

The ghost's words reminded me of the final passage written, and I wanted to look it over once more. As I found the final few pages, I took in a breath, suddenly feeling chilled, even though I was still sweaty. Nerves alight with an unwitting sense desperation. I glanced over them, afraid I might otherwise be absorbed into the text itself.

It was irrational I told myself, irrational, yet still possible.

Impossible...no...inexplicable, yes. Yes it was. It was something unexplained, misunderstood, and I did _not_ just see a ghost looming amongst the trees, and I certainly didn't have a knife pressed to my neck by one either. It was just a bad dream. A very, very long nightmare. I'd wake soon, I chanted in my head, but that elusive time of wakefulness wouldn't come to me.

I could still smell the blood, and nothing had changed...it was no dream I concluded...it had been very real.

I knew I could not trust myself, nor the very fabric of my mind. I could do no further than a mere glossing of the words before me. To ponder them, was a thing I dared not do. Not even as the script in front of me detailed events as thus;

 _My mother is dead, has been dead for nearly as long as my memory allows. I knew from the time I could talk, that I was destined for greatness. It was such a forthright thing, a truth gifted to my ears by everyone that groomed me for such the role. My father lived until the spring of last year as a pillar of strength, a distant one that loomed over my people as a sign of things to come. True that his power came only from respect, but since that is the truth, it should be notable, shouldn't it?_

 _I believe so._

 _It is tradition that a woman keeps the throne, and her many peoples united. In a few short days, I am to come of age, and as many other women of my house before me, I was dutifully willing to accept. Part of me fears that such a title is merely elegant subterfuge, I am no queen after all. I am a woman of the cloth. Devout and faithful, because I must me. Yet, I am not as honest as the others, I do not truly believe._

 _There is no god, no goddess…only mankind._

 _Only false hopes and dreams for comfort at night. Some might think me cynical, Himeko surely does. I want her to be happy, if her faith allows for that, so be it. She is no more than a simple girl, she has no need to worry about the much larger implications surrounding my coronation. She has been a very good friend to me. I find that I can trust her. I could say anything, she would accept it. Even girlish whims seem like a pleasure to be taken whilst at her side._

 _With Himeko, I may laugh freely, and speak candidly. That comfort is fleeting, and I've no desire to conceptualize life without her._

 _She is to leave on the marrow, as soon as the sun rises. The priesthood has selected her to journey to the holy land. It is a great honor, or so I've been told. A privilege that cannot possibly be questioned, and should not be refused. I suppose many would not think of the implications, but, I surely do._

 _I hesitate to say this, but I find the situation to be of rather ill repute._

 _I'd rather her at my side, among the many I deem trusted friends. True, the blood of the Himemiya has no few allies, but, one must be brought to wonder, is it causation? Is that the only real reason why so many call themselves my friends? Since it is a popular thing to do? The proper thing among upstanding merits, of which, anyone of any respect would employ? Furthermore, is that alliance, or rather my alliance with Himeko the reason why she was chosen?_

 _The more I think of it, the more I simply feel as if it is no more than a fabricated scheme. A plot that had been ill begotten from the start._

I had no sooner finished the page, feeling chilled. I had spoken to the woman who wrote this, ghost or not. I wanted speak up, a gut instinct told me not to do so. Instead, I was forced to consider the consequences. I felt as if they were watching me, as if blue eyes dared me to say a single word. If I did, would I be killed?

I thought that perhaps I might be.

"Stay awake any longer, and you'll hardly make our sendoff easy."

With a start, my heart started to race as my eyes found the shorter figure from behind me. Hand over my heart, I tried to suppress the wailing in my chest. "Must you give me a fright?"

"I've done nothing but collect water," Nao said to me with an upraised brow. Reaching for the lamp in front of me, she turned it brighter by just a hair. "You worry," she said as she took a sip, "why?" and so with it, she placed the metal cup onto the table before me.

"It has been a difficult night," I say as I take the offering. Wine that was watered and chilled touched my lips.

"That on your neck, it was not there before."

"A thorn pricked me, nothing more, do not worry."

With a huff, Nao picked up her leg, and rolled the leather legging upward so that I could see the patch of scars beneath it. "Fell into a thicket once. That is no thorn nor needle from a pine."

"I ran into something…"

"Looks like a slice, not a cut…"

I settled with as much truth as humanly possible. "There is…an anomaly, shall we say. Inexplicable by most, but this cut proves it. I am sure now, very sure in fact, that what you're after is not something in Black Valley, but rather, something caused by it. I am sure it also cannot be stopped. You cannot halt a pure force of nature any more than you can grip water in your bare hand without it slipping away. Eventually, all efforts you make will be fruitless."

"Aye, that they will," Nao said as she righted herself back into a relaxed position on the chair beside me. "Death awaits everyone, be it by bloody fate, or restful sleep. Illness or murder, we all end one day. By God's bones, I swear, my end will be one I make for myself. Bards will sing about it over a froth, I guarantee it."

I put the slur against God to the back of my mind, and in doing so, I felt kindred with the inhabitants. Sitting in dark motionless, I realized I wanted nothing more than to learn about it. The darkness that had no name. I felt as if I could touch it, wondered if doing so would offer me anything more than death.

Yet, death was at the cusp of everything I deemed important. Life as I knew it was not an option, living in fear was not truly living at all. One of Nao's blades sat on the table, my fingers had a will of their own, sliding across the hilt, grasping the fine metal.

"There will be no songs unless a scribe recounts the details."

"Aye, that too."

"You seem unconcerned, is it that you are a daredevil, or merely that you are suicidal?"

Nao laughed, retrieving the knife from my hand. After she took a hard swallow of the drunk between us she shrugged. "If you ask that I wish death, no. I don't relish the thought of becoming a carcass. If you ask me that I wish to feel alive, not so either. I'm too far a sinner to be redeemed, difference is, I don't mind. Do what comes natural, you'll survive."


End file.
